


so show me (i'll show you)

by sourwolfclub



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pining, Rebuilt Hale House, Slow Burn, abuse of italics: probably, lil bit of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 13:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwolfclub/pseuds/sourwolfclub
Summary: 5 times Stiles asks Derek to teach him something and 1 time Stiles teaches Derek.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 452
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	so show me (i'll show you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moretomhardy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moretomhardy/gifts).



> i apologize now for any confusion concerning the chapter count, but this fic is 100% complete now! 
> 
> title is taken from bts' "[magic shop](https://youtu.be/hLf6yZPJyvM)" bc i generally just title all my fics with song lyrics. merry christmas and happy holidays!
> 
> cw: swearing, pack dynamics, implied violence, injuries, mentions of weapons (guns, bows, and knives), mentions of kate argent, minor sexual content and grieving

**1**

Stiles lets himself into the old, burned-out husk of the Hale house that Derek still refuses to tear down now that he has acquired legal ownership of the property. He doesn't care if he’s going to interrupt something or not. He and Derek are going to have _words_.

“Derek!”

There is no verbal answer but when Stiles' eyes roam over the staircase again, Derek is standing there, barefoot.

"Ugh, man, I know werewolves are impervious to most diseases, but for my peace of mind, put on some shoes when you climb that death contraption. I don't even want to think about how quickly I'd contract tetanus if I ever set a bare foot on those stairs," Stiles groans.

Derek huffs out what could almost be accepted as an amused grunt if one was listening closely enough. Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at the older man instead of smiling stupidly at him like he kind of wants to every time he catches a glimpse of Derek's ridiculously gorgeous face.

The only response Derek has for that is to copy Stiles by also crossing his arms over his chest and scowling back at him. Stiles concedes defeat to their scowling contest after a few more seconds have passed, sighing as he runs a hand over the hair that is beginning to grow out from his signature buzzcut. Lydia practically begged him to stop scalping himself and let his hair breathe so it could grow into a hairstyle she, Erica, and Allison are all certain will suit him nicely. Stiles honestly doesn't care one way or the other about the state of his hair but after Jackson bribed him with money, it seems that Stiles is now two hundred dollars richer and has thicker hair than before.

"Did you come here for a reason?" Derek asks then sniffs the air, his face twisting in confusion as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"How do you deal with so many teenager werewolves vying for your attention?" Stiles blurts out before Derek can ask about his scent.

Derek's brows furrow together in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Stiles sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. "What I mean is, you're the alpha."

"Yes, Stiles. I am the alpha. I'm glad you can state the obvious," Derek snorts.

"Shut up, let me finish talking first." Stiles glowers at him.

Derek glares at him, breathing deeply through his nose as his stance stiffens. His face twitches with the irritation Stiles knows he evokes within the older man whenever they exchange more than three words between them. He grins, despite himself, glad to know that he can always count on Derek to act as he normally does when it concerns Stiles. Unlike some unruly puppies who devotedly follow after Derek for some strange season.

(Well, not _that_ strange. Stiles knows that he is half the reason the pack is the way it is now, but his point still stands.)

"You're the alpha, so the puppies hang around you a lot. They treat you a certain way and stick to that _because_ you're their alpha. Right?" Stiles manages to explain himself coherently, hoping that what makes sense to him also makes sense to Derek right now.

 _Puppies_ , Derek mouths to himself with wry amusement before he meets Stiles' gaze and nods his head.

"Right, so, if your puppies started acting differently, you could just make them act like they used to before," Stiles continues.

"Wrong," Derek cuts in just as Stiles is starting to pick up steam. "It would be wrong to force my betas to act a certain way. I'd be a bad alpha if I did that."

Stiles stares at him for a few seconds, mouth agape, before he groans and rubs both his hands over his face in frustration. "Why do you have to have such great morals? Why can't you be like Peter who gives answers for a price or Deaton who never gives a straight one?"

Derek smirks at him, letting his arms fall from his chest so they are by his sides instead. "Why are you asking me about this?"

"Can you teach me how to handle your werewolves invading so much of my privacy recently?" Stiles rushes to say, hoping that his puppy dog eyes work half as well as Scott's seem to do whenever he directs them at anybody, including Derek.

"What do you mean?" Derek asks hesitantly, something in his expression telling Stiles that he almost doesn't want to know the answer.

Stiles sighs. "Your puppies keep crawling into my bed at night, taking my clothes and wearing them even if they don't fit. They keep laying themselves all over me whenever they get the chance too. And, normally, I wouldn't object to so many attractive people constantly touching me, but Jackson shoved his face into my neck the other day and just _breathed_ there for two minutes straight. He wouldn't let me move or step away and I've had the heebie-jeebies ever since, dude!"

"Don't call me dude," Derek says reflexively. "Have they really been doing that?"

"Oh, god. You don't even know!" Stiles complains. "Scott keeps making fun of me because I supposedly _reek_ of pack. I don't smell like me anymore, according to him, which makes it hard to track me down since I smell like a bunch of different hormonal teenagers who follow me around at school, are always over at my house, and lay claim to my own bed often enough that I always find myself on my bedroom floor come morning. Derek, please tell me how you deal with them."

"This at least explains why I couldn't smell you when you drove up. I only knew it was you because your Jeep's engine is so recognizable." Derek stares at him, his facing smoothing out and devoid of any telling emotions. "I thought you liked having so many people over at your place though? You said the pack was welcome any time."

"I did! But then-" Stiles pauses, suddenly suspicious as his eyes flicker back towards Derek's closed-off expression. "Hey, I never said I _liked_ having company over, so how do you know that?"

Derek only shrugs, avoiding his gaze. "Your scent. Whenever the pack is over, you smell happy."

"That is so weird, man. I don't think you even realize how creepy that sounds," Stiles laughs.

"Whatever," Derek says with a roll of his eyes. "You want the pack to back off? Then _tell_ them."

Stiles stomps his foot, fed up with how nonchalantly Derek is taking all of this. "I have! They didn't listen!"

Derek sits down on the steps and leans back so he's lying across five of them. "You have to be firm with them. Wolves respond to you when you command their respect. Right now, they're walking all over you because you let them. I know you're not all flowers and rainbows, I've seen you in a fight, Stiles. Use some of that energy to get your point across with them."

"So your advice is for me to tell them no in a 'Big Boy' voice?" Stiles asks, not believing that his issues with the pack can be solved so easily.

"Be firm. Leave no room for any arguments," Derek says, completely ignoring Stiles' superpower: sarcasm.

Stiles groans. "Why can't you just tell them to leave me alone? You're the alpha!"

Derek rolls his eyes again. "That wouldn't solve anything. The pack would still walk all over you because you're letting your alpha handle your problems instead of doing it yourself. That makes you look weak."

Stiles glowers at him, sniffing his nose in disdain when Derek gets a thoughtful look on his face and tilts his head to the side. He has to fight the urge to laugh, suddenly overcome with how similar to a dog Derek looks like now.

"You do know why they've been acting differently with you, right?" Derek asks while peering at him.

"Of course, I do," Stiles huffs.

Derek laughs then. Honest to god laughs, the sound breathy and filled with enough amusement to build a park. Stiles has to force himself not to gawk because he will _not_ be the asshole that makes Derek Hale feel subconscious for doing something as normal as _laughing_. The man has been through hell and Stiles knows that he is generally just an all-around bastard almost all of the time, but he's done making things harder on Derek. Derek deserves a break, no matter how hard he tries to self-sabotage himself.

"So, you don't know why the pack suddenly started crowding you and when they didn't listen to you the one time you asked them nicely to give you some space, you decided to come to your alpha and have me squash the problem for you without knowing _why_?" Derek chuckles, rubbing a hand over his chin as his laughter dies a slow death. "That doesn't sound like you, Stiles."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why or are you going to waste my time with more dog training nonsense?"

Derek's expression hardens instantly. "We are your pack, Stiles. Not dogs. I don't care if you call my betas puppies, but don't treat us like we're animals."

"You know that I would never do that," Stiles shoots back. "I _know_ you guys aren't dogs! I'm just saying that your advice sounds a lot like the police dog trainer's when they bring in new K-9s."

"I'm going to ignore that," Derek mutters. "Now, as for why the pack has been acting like that with you. Simply put: they see you as the weakest member of the pack. It's why they circle around you, why they scent you and spread your scent amongst themselves. They're camouflaging you."

Out of all the possible reasons Stiles thought up of in his head for why the pack thought it was open season on Make Stiles Uncomfortable, he didn't expect this to be what Derek would tell him.

"You're joking," Stiles sputters. "Please, tell me you're joking."

Derek shakes his head. "They're doing all of this because they care about you and want to keep you safe. Their instincts demand it of them and so they have to comply. The only way they'll stop is when you stop rolling over and show your belly to them."

Stiles sighs. "Ugh. How am I supposed to put my foot down now after hearing all that?"

"This is exactly why they're closing ranks around you, you know. You can't keep being a pushover."

"Fine. I get it, already," Stiles grumbles. "Be strict, hold my ground with them. That all?"

Derek nods, relaxed now. "If they don't stop, even after you confront them, then I'll step in and handle the issue as the alpha. Just let me know how it goes."

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles waves his hand before he sticks it awkwardly into his pocket as an idea strikes him. "Hey, have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet," Derek says, suddenly cautious.

Stiles grins, looking up to meet his gaze. "Great 'cause I'm taking you to the diner downtown. My treat. Hurry up and get dressed."

Derek sighs and stands, apparently willing to go along with Stiles' attempt of returning the favor as long as he gets free food out of it. Stiles watches him walk back upstairs, feeling jittery now that he is no longer in the older werewolf's presence.

"I'll be in my Jeep, waiting," Stiles speaks softly into the stale air of the burned-out home his alpha won't let go of, knowing that Derek can hear him well enough, then turns on his heel and walks outside.

**2**

“Teach me how to fight.”

Derek barely spares him a glance as he continues to chug from his water bottle. The only indication he gives of having heard Stiles' request is the sole finger he holds up to silently ask Stiles to hold on a minute.

When he has finally set the water bottle down, Stiles is officially annoyed. "You done? Or do I need to wait until you eat a whole meal too?"

Derek snorts, not commenting on how short Stiles is being with him. "You know how to fight."

"I want to learn how to fight _better_ ," Stiles emphasizes his point by waving towards his face where his busted lip has finally healed, the bruising around his eye is more light blue than purple and the sharp line of stitches still peek out from his hairline, edging steadily towards his right eyebrow. "So I can look like this less often."

"I told you to stay with the others," Derek snaps, red flashing in his eyes for a fleeting second before they are their usual hazel.

Stiles harrumphs, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his hips out to the side so Derek can understand how fed up he is with the same argument Derek tries to have with him every time Stiles' injuries are brought up. "I've said this once, and I'll say it as often as I need to, but you're literally the stupidest person on this planet if you think I would ever leave my alpha to the mercy of hunters. We're pack and you are _my_ alpha. I will not accept anyone else as the alpha of our pack."

Derek's expression softens with an emotion Stiles can't quite pinpoint, but it is gone by the next second and Derek's signature stoic mask is back.

"I think we're derailing from the subject at hand right now, Stiles."

Stiles rubs a hand over his hair, hissing quietly when he pulls on his wrist that still feels tender even after being released from the confining prison of the brace Melissa and Deaton wrangled on him. Derek is immediately by his side, holding Stiles' wrist gently between his two hands as he examines it closely. Honestly, wolves and their stupid protective instincts. It's bad enough that Stiles has to deal with the pack's coddling and constant hovering right now, he doesn't need their alpha adding on to the situation. Stiles is more than sure that the puppies would take it as the green light to go into full mother hen mode with him as their irritated chick.

(Although, it would be nice to get more of those cookies Boyd made him the other day. Those were delicious and Stiles has never had a better gingersnap than he did when he bit into the one Boyd had shoved into his mouth to shut him up.)

Ever since Derek's rescue almost two weeks ago, the pack hasn't let Stiles out of their sight for more than five minutes. They follow him around at school and always invite themselves over to his house after school, helping him make dinner for everyone. His dad knows about the pack now and while he wasn't happy about all the danger they were putting themselves in, he is happy that Stiles has a lot more people to depend on than he did before when it was just him and Scott versus the world. It is why he's only grounded for a month instead of two this time around because he knows Stiles is going to be driven out of his mind being cooped up in the house with only the pack to keep him company.

Stiles knows that they do this because they worry for him and that it really all started when they first camouflaged his scent, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. Thankfully, they've never camouflaged his scent again after that first time almost six months ago. Except Stiles is pretty sure that has more to do with the Great Isaac Sulk that ensued when Stiles finally put his foot down and only ended when Derek viciously snapped at him for it. Stiles appreciates the sentiment, he just doesn't care for the method is all.

Of course, he isn't going to say anything about the puppy piles taking place in his bed every night because he _knows_ that despite everything, he feels safer with his pack and the sounds of their easy breathing around him in the dark.

Point is, the pack is always around now and Stiles was only lucky enough to sneak away to the burnt-out Hale house because they give him sly looks each time he goes off alone somewhere with their alpha. While he knows that he should be annoyed about the teasing and insinuations, he also can't deny that he is disappointed about him and their alpha _not_ being a thing.

So he's here in the preserve, having stumbled out of his Jeep a while ago to find Derek working out in the clearing that used to be the Hale front lawn. Derek in his stupidly shirtless, muscled glory. It's unfair that Derek should look so good with sweat dripping from his brow and down his chest while Stiles looks like he's deathly ill whenever he so much as flushes and nevermind how he looks like when he sweats either.

"I'm _fine_ ," Stiles grumbles, glaring defiantly at his alpha when those hazel eyes glance up towards his face. "I would feel even better if you would just help me improve at hand-to-hand combat so I won't be so useless the next time my gun gets knocked out of my hands."

The gun was something both Derek and his dad insisted on as soon as Stiles' eighteenth birthday passed. He's known how to shoot since he was fourteen and begged his dad to teach him since he thought that it would be a great bonding experience, but really only showed Stiles just how dangerous his dad's job is. His aim is pretty amazing though and while he could ask Allison for archery lessons to add another weapon to his arsenal, he'd honestly rather try his hand at throwing knives instead.

Derek frowns. "You're not useless. The others told me how you came up with a strategy when I was captured. You got them all in and all of us out. In the end, the only one who got injured was you because you planned it that way."

Ugh. And Derek wonders why they all decided to stay in the pack with him as their alpha after the whole Kanima incident. It was pretty clear that Derek actually gave a damn about them all when Stiles proclaimed that weekly pack meetings were going to be a thing they did from now on and Derek bought a loft so the pack could have a den to hold all those meetings in.

Sometimes Stiles wishes the creepy, bastard version of Derek that he first met was still around. At least Stiles wasn't attracted to _him_ and all his freaky stalking.

(Stiles is a lying liar who lies.)

"Spare me the flattery, oh alpha of mine," Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. "Look, the longer we argue about this, the longer I'm going to annoy the shit out of you until you finally agree. Why don't you save us both the trouble and just give in already?"

"Fine," Derek snaps, his nostrils flaring as he exhales heavily. "I'll teach you how to fight _better_ , but I'm not explaining to your dad where you'll be getting your new bruises from."

Stiles rolls his eyes again and yanks his hand out of Derek's grip, instantly regretting it when sharp flashes of pain have him hissing through his teeth once more. Derek sighs like he still doesn't understand why he's the one who ended up being in charge of a pack of idiotic, hormonal teenagers and reaches out again to hold Stiles' hand still. Instantly, the pain recedes like it was never there and Stiles bites his lip as he notices the black, raised veins on the back of Derek's hands.

"Idiot. I'm not helping you until you're completely healed, but next time you throw a punch, don't tuck in your thumb. It's a wonder you only sprained your wrist instead of breaking it by doing that," Derek nags.

Stiles bares his teeth at him, ignoring the way his gut clenches when he meets Derek's gaze again. "You gave in, that's all I wanted."

"Does that mean you'll leave me alone now?"

"Gladly."

Derek laughs as Stiles turns on his heel and stomps back towards his Jeep, muttering about annoying older werewolves under his breath as he does.

**3**

Stiles groans as his trusted baby blue Jeep refuses to turn on.

He thumps his head against the steering wheel, snorting when he remembers how Derek had slammed his face into the very same thing almost three years ago now.

The heat is sweltering, California and it's too hot summers probably being the cause for his broken-down Jeep. The engine had begun making a strange sound and Stiles had pulled over immediately, not wanting to risk ruining his car or cause some sort of explosion that would result in his pack having to pick up his various body parts strewn across the road and among the trees. With Stiles' luck, it is entirely probable that the latter could happen to him.

Sweat trickles down his neck and makes his scalp itch. Vaguely, he wishes he still had his buzzcut because he is sure he has never felt this uncomfortably hot before when his hair was still unbelievably short. His gray tank top sticks to his skin, his flannel all but forgotten in the passenger's seat where he had thrown it after two minutes spent outside.

"Come on, baby. I promise I'll get you checked out, just turn on. Pretty please? Don't give up me just yet," Stiles croons to his Jeep, turning the key and groaning again when the engine doesn't turn over.

He sighs, weighing his options.

It's a ridiculously hot Wednesday afternoon, he is pulled over to the side of a usually popular road at this time of day, and there isn't a car in sight. He had been on his way back into town from the preserve, intent on replacing his phone or Derek would otherwise have his head.

His phone had suffered a tragic and heartbreaking death just a few days before when a kelpie had dragged him into the lake and tried to drown him. Fortunately, Stiles had stabbed it before it could succeed and was finally able to break out of its grip. Allison had then shot it from her perch in the surrounding trees and Stiles had tread water for a while, too tired to work up the effort of making it back to land after avoiding being killed by another supernatural being. He could see his pack gathered by the water's edge, watching him as confusion and panic began to set in while he continued to stay mostly in place. Derek had growled and yelled out to him, urging him to return but Stiles ignored his command and settled on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky while he floated in the cool lake water.

Eventually, Jackson had swum in seeing as his experience as a lifeguard would be best used to bring Stiles back to land. He recalls Jackson's wide-eyed scowl over Stiles' lack of response but the events that had followed are vague since his mind was mostly drifting along with his body at that point until Lydia whacked him upside the head with a heavy tome in Deaton's office and reality had come back to him in a rush.

He kept forgetting to replace his phone until he had met Derek at the torn down Hale house and helped him with the room assignments. Derek was still debating whether to give Allison, Erica, Jackson, and Lydia rooms of their own since they would be leaving to the east side of the country by the end of the summer for college and Stiles was of the mind that Derek would be strung up by his balls if he didn't provide Erica and Lydia with their own space in the new Hale house to come.

They'd decided that on the second and third floors would be a heavily soundproofed bedroom for every pack member - regardless of whether they were coupled or leaving for college soon - and two smaller guest rooms squeezed in on the right end of each floor. A sitting room, dining room, and kitchen would be placed on the first floor along with two offices and the library, gaming room, and extra storage space would be in the basement. Stiles had reached into his pocket to take his phone out and email Derek the rest of the details they had agreed on before remembering that he didn't have a phone anymore and endured the lecture Derek had given him that lasted for five whole minutes.

(Stiles had timed it.)

Stiles had eventually been able to slink away with the promise of heading right into town and getting a new phone so Derek's panties wouldn't get into _too_ much of a twist. Derek had glowered at him but let Stiles direct them back to the blueprints and agree to build a large shed that Stiles could use as a workshop for his carpentry skills and a garage for Derek's mechanic hobby joined to the new Hale house to come. They would present the plans to the rest of the pack at the next meeting and construction would begin by the end of the month once everyone had come to a consensus. No doubt, there would be something that Lydia would add that neither of them had thought up of, but for the most part, Stiles was satisfied with what they had come up with considering they bickered over every little detail.

He's still unbearably proud of his alpha working up the nerve to bulldoze his childhood home down and rebuild. Stiles couldn't imagine how much progress Derek was making in his therapy sessions to reach this point, but whatever had made his alpha decide to do this, Stiles greatly approved of it.

After the floorplans had been decided, they had painstakingly gone over every safety feature for fires, floods, and earthquakes that Stiles had made a list of beforehand and then signed off on the blueprints. Stiles had left first, not wanting to intrude on Derek's alone time because his gaze had gone wistful as he looked at the bare ground where his home used to be.

Now he regrets not staying and comforting his alpha. At least then they would have left together and Stiles wouldn't be stuck on the side of the road by his lonesome.

He _could_ try and walk the rest of the way into town, but it's much too hot and he doesn't even have a water bottle with him at the moment. No, he'll just wait and hope that a car comes soon.

Stiles flicks the emergency lights on once he notices that he hadn't before and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares out at the open road. Birds flutter about in the trees that line either side of the road, their chirping calming. Gradually, he finds himself relaxing as he listens to the sounds of nature around him, almost forgetting about his current predicament until a very familiar car pops up in his side-view mirror.

"Oh, Derek, you do not know how happy I am to see your stupidly, sexy car, man," Stiles crows, unbuckling his seatbelt as the black Camaro rolls to a stop behind his Jeep.

The Camaro's engine cuts, leaving the sounds of nature to accompany Stiles once again before Derek is suddenly at his door, one brow raised in silent question as he gazes in at Stiles.

Stiles snorts when he catches sight of Derek's leather jacket and not a hint of sweat forming on the older werewolf's brow. "Dude, how can you even breathe in that thing? Aren't you dying in that? I'm dying just looking at it."

"Don't call me dude," Derek replies automatically, opening Stiles' door for him when it becomes clear that he isn't going to do it himself. "What are you doing, Stiles? I thought I sent you to get a replacement for your phone."

"Hey, I am totally innocent! My baby is the one at fault here," Stiles laments as he pats the steering wheel sadly, hoping he looks pitiful enough for Derek to offer him his assistance. "It made this weird noise, so I pulled over and I guess it just died on me because now it won't turn on. Can you please help me figure out what's wrong with my baby girl?"

Derek sighs. "What kind of noise?"

Stiles grins, knowing that he has won. He turns his body towards Derek and steps down from his Jeep, surprised that Derek doesn't move back when he expected him to and suddenly, they are pressed chest-to-chest. Derek's chest is firm, the thin material of his purple shirt brushing against Stiles and robbing him of the fake nonchalance he needs to meet Derek's gaze. He suddenly feels self-conscious in just his tanktop because even with Derek's leather jacket shrouding his shoulders and hiding the muscles of his arms from view, it is very obvious that Derek is a lot more well built than Stiles will ever probably be.

A flush works its way across his cheeks and Stiles hopes that Derek will excuse it as a side effect of the stifling heat from a Californian summer.

That hope dies a quick and swift death when Derek sniffs the air and Stiles finds himself mortified as he recalls Derek's keen sense of smell that was only enhanced when he became an alpha. Hopefully, Scott will put down the quote Stiles wants on his tombstone because he is sure that he is about to die from embarrassment right now.

Derek huffs a quiet laugh between them and moves closer. Stiles feels his breath freeze in his throat, frozen on the spot as Derek's body shifts across his own, leaning over him and leaving them with only a few inches of space between them that Stiles could never dare to cross. He feels too hot, sweat forming on his brow and trickling down the side of his face as Derek hums and pulls on the lever that will pop open the hood of Stiles' Jeep.

Stiles doesn't move again until Derek has stepped away and walks over to the front of the car, bending down to get a good look at what is going on under the hood. He breathes out shakily, feeling adrift until Derek motions him closer and suddenly the moment is gone.

Things still feel strange between them as Stiles leans down over the inner workings of his precious Jeep and listens to Derek explain what has gone wrong and how to fix it. He knows that he should be taking advantage of the knowledge that Derek is freely giving him, but he can't quite focus enough on the here and now. Derek motions towards what he thinks is the engine and says something about the engine and the heat and Stiles nods along like he understands a lick of what his alpha is saying.

Eventually, Stiles finds himself handing over the keys to his Jeep while sitting in the passenger seat of the Camaro beside his alpha, wondering if what had happened earlier was all in his head or not since Derek hasn't acknowledged it at all.

Stiles is broken from the sudden haze that befell him when Derek parks the Camaro in his driveway and leans across him slowly to open his door for him. "I'll be back later when the tow truck brings your 'baby girl' so I can fix her _and_ take you to get a new phone."

"Uh-huh," Stiles mumbles, feeling sweaty and nervous again as he unbuckles his seatbelt, avoiding meeting Derek's eyes.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, making Stiles still for a short moment and flick his gaze upwards in surprise.

His heart skips a beat when he realizes that Derek's face is much too close for comfort to his own and he starts to stammer out some nonsense. Derek smiles at him though, the sight of it alone cutting off whatever ramble Stiles was spouting.

Derek leans even closer then and Stiles barely dares to breathe as the prickly stubble on Derek's jaw scritches against his cheek gently.

 _Holy shit_ , Stiles thinks to himself, _Derek just_ scented _me!_

Stiles barely manages to brush his cheek against Derek's in return before his alpha leans back and settles into his seat. "I'll see you later, Stiles."

He nods, speechless with the sudden turn of events and steps out of Derek's Camaro.

Stiles walks to his front door without offering another word, suddenly aware of the fact that he is no longer a high school student, is of age and is alone with the hot, older man he has harbored a boner for since he was sixteen and fighting for his life every other week. He never entertained the idea of Derek ever feeling the same way, especially not after he figured out _how_ exactly Kate Argent managed to infiltrate her way into the Hale house, but a guy could dream. And boy did Stiles _dream_.

(Fantasized every minute of the day more like, if you asked Scott.)

Now, Stiles thinks of inviting Derek in and up to his bedroom that his alpha is more than acquainted with and all of the heat-inducing things they could do on his bed. Like how big his hands would look on Derek's hips, how Derek's beard would feel pressed against other places of his body, and how broad Derek would feel under him. He flushes when Derek sniffs the air again, another quiet laugh ringing around them and dragging Stiles back to reality.

Derek waves as he turns on the Camaro and waits as Stiles hastily turns to the door and unlocks it, rushing to get away from the all too knowing smirk adorning Derek's stupidly, handsome face. His alpha doesn't leave until the front door has shut firmly behind him and a dangerous warmth settles into Stiles' chest at the genuine care his alpha holds for him and has tried his best to ignore for some time now to avoid what he knows is going to consume him next.

"I am _so_ screwed," Stiles mutters to himself as he leans back against the door, half-hard in his pants as he tries his damnedest to drive explicit thoughts of his alpha away from his mind.

He fails.

**4**

Stiles holds a shaking hand to his chest, hoping that he is being quiet enough to evade creepy werewolf hearing.

His breath catches as he feels an all too familiar presence show up at his bedroom window though and Stiles curls further into himself. Boyd, Isaac, and Scott were lounging in the living room when he had scurried up the stairs and locked himself away from them and their too-knowing gazes, but if Derek has decided to come through Stiles' window, he must have sent them away so Stiles could have some privacy.

Scott had let slip about the importance of today's date two days ago when Stiles wasn't paying attention and as a result, Stiles has battled both anger and sadness the entire day while his pack hovered over him. Some were more subtle and less overbearing than others, but, somehow, Lydia - who is across the country at the moment - was still able to annoy the shit out of him with her unexpected mother henning and Jackson's unhappy grumbling about taking care of himself in the background of her constant Skype calls.

Stiles would have preferred it if they had just left him alone today as they had for the past three years. Except, now that they are aware, Stiles knows they aren't going to do that unless he puts his foot down again or Derek makes them back off instead. At least, just this once, Stiles can appreciate Derek taking the burden of _that_ off his shoulders.

Derek steps out of his boots once the window has closed behind him, his leather jacket shrugged off and draped over the back of Stiles' desk chair within the next moment. Stiles hates how his tears blur his vision, but he doesn't move and he doesn't speak, unsure of what Derek expects to do to make this better.

They both know that nothing will ever make this okay, obviously, but Derek is his alpha. Stiles swore his loyalty to him long before Derek even realized he had it and once he did, Derek has done all he could to prove himself worthy of it. So he has decided to be here whether Stiles wants him to be or not.

(As if Derek needed to prove himself worthy, honestly, but Stiles understands the sentiment and the thought process behind it anyway.)

Stiles sniffs as the bed dips by his feet, a warm hand cupping his ankle as his alpha settles in. Derek remains silent though, offering his support and wordlessly reassuring Stiles of his presence and Stiles finds himself basking in it. He hadn't known whether he wanted Derek to leave him alone as well until Derek showed up and touched him. Now he realizes that he doesn't want his alpha to leave. He wants him to stay right here, silent and firm by his side because he'll understand a lot better than the others ever would.

"Before I decided to rebuild, I went through the old house again," Derek breaks the silence with, his voice soft in the near darkness of Stiles' bedroom.

He isn't loud. Derek is never loud, but he always garners Stiles' full attention when he speaks. His alpha fills up the space of an entire room just by stepping in it. He can brood and stalk to all his creepy, little heart's desire, but Derek has never needed words to pop up on people's radars. Not like Stiles, who is insignificant enough that he feels the need to ramble and gesture wildly just to make sure people even _notice_ he's there half the time. Just to make sure he still _exists_.

So he decides to listen, holding his hands against his chest and staring at his closet door instead of his alpha as Derek continues. "I'd looked through almost every room in the house by that point. Every room except Cora's."

Stiles remembers the girl in his history class who was almost as obnoxious as him and a lot prettier. Pretty _and_ smart enough to be included in Lydia's very small circle at least. He was never close to her, but he remembers the look on Lydia's face at school the day after the fire when she realized her friend was never coming back. He remembers being sad for Lydia and her pain, but now he feels guilty as he realizes that he wasn't all that sad for Cora or any of the Hales. Derek squeezes his ankle once as if he can tell what Stiles is thinking, but keeps speaking anyway.

"She was the same age as most you in the pack. She liked to tease me a lot when we were small and whenever she happened to drag me into trouble with her, she would pin the blame on me. She was just as loud as you always tend to be and she acted like she was bigger than life itself. She was annoying, a brat, and a pain in my ass half the time, but most importantly, she was my little sister," Derek murmurs, his voice steady despite his tense grip on Stiles' ankle. "I thought her room would be in shambles like the rest of the house, but it was still mostly intact. There were a few holes in the walls and the ceiling, but her bed was still there and her desk had been untouched. I looked around her room and I couldn't let go of the idea of how similar some of you were to her, how some of you knew her and were friends with her. I sat on her bed and shoved some of the figurines on her desk into my pockets and took the photo she had of her, Danny, Jackson, and Lydia, but then I sat down on the floor and thought of how I couldn't let this happen again."

Derek lets go of his ankle then and Stiles doesn't know whether he should protest to the loss of contact or not until his alpha is settling down beside him. Stiles lets himself be rearranged without complaint, finding himself being cradled from behind with Derek's hot breath fanning across the back of his neck and his strong arms holding him tight.

"I just couldn't let my sister's room become her tomb. I couldn't let my pack - _her friends_ \- come into the house while it looked like that anymore," Derek explains even though he doesn't owe Stiles this, doesn't need to justify his reasoning for deciding to tear down the final reminder of his birth pack and build a home for his new one. "I went back to the loft after I managed to drag myself away and just lied there on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I realized I wasn't going to be able to sleep that night and by morning I had already made up my mind. So I went to Lydia and gave her the photo that she already had on the mantle above the fireplace. We went down to city hall that afternoon with a petition to bulldoze and rebuild after I told her what I wanted to do and you know what happened after, but you should also know _why_."

His alpha inhales deeply, his voice sounding strained when he says, "I lost my pack once, I won't lose it again."

By this point, Stiles feels like an utter ass. He lost his mom years before Derek lost his entire family and yet he is still here. Standing strong, taking charge, and allowing himself to heal while Stiles still aches for the days when everything was fine after his mom held him and let him cry over a skinned knee. When things were easier and he didn't ever have to worry about things that go bump in the night. It's wrong to compare their pain, he knows, and he also knows that Derek didn't bring this up to make Stiles feel like shit, but he can't help it.

He always knew that his alpha was a lot stronger than him physically, he just never realized he was also stronger emotionally too.

"How do I let go?" Stiles asks, his voice raspy. "How do I move on when it still hurts so much?"

Derek holds him tighter, pressing his face into Stiles' hair. A sob hiccups in Stiles' chest as his eyes close, letting himself be held for the moment.

"You don't," Derek finally responds, choked and pained but clear nonetheless. "You just learn to live with it and learn to live _for_ them instead."

Stiles turns in the embrace, burrowing himself into Derek's arms. "I don't know if I can," he admits.

Lips meet his forehead then, soft enough for Stiles to pull away if he wanted to, but he's tired. He is _tired_ of pretending that Derek doesn't mean more to him than he does, of letting his alpha think he is unworthy of Stiles' fierce loyalty, of ever allowing his alpha to doubt him and his love for the pack as a whole. Tired of the hesitancy and the insecurity he knows will never completely leave him, but is ready to live with until his last breath.

So he pulls himself closer and hitches a leg over Derek's hip, daring the older man to push him away. Instead, Derek tightens his embrace and skims his nose across his hairline, breathing over his scalp and no doubt scenting him to oblivion and back.

"You don't have to do it alone," Derek whispers between them. "You've always had your dad and Scott. But you have us now, the pack. And you have me too. If you want."

Stiles' breath shudders in his throat, tears clouding his vision again as an uncontrollable wave of grief and gratitude overwhelm him.

"Thank you," Stiles manages to choke out.

Derek doesn't say anything in return, just keeps holding him well into the night and the days to come.

**5**

Stiles stays on the couch while everyone else leaves.

He's been steeling himself up to do this ever since Derek held him that one night and Stiles finally allowed himself to accept his not entirely platonic feelings for the older man. He is almost twenty-one, after all, and neither of them is getting any younger. One of them has to be the braver one and bring it up.

Of course, their dynamic had changed to accommodate the new direction Stiles was pretty sure they were headed in. On movie nights, Stiles often finds himself curled up on Derek's lap with a heavy arm wrapped around his waist to keep him in place. Derek touches him more often than he used to. A hand squeezing the back of his neck here, a brushing of shoulders there, and even more rare: a kiss to Stiles' forehead or the scritch of Derek's beard against his cheek. Stiles knows that his heartbeat runs wild whenever Derek so much as brushes his fingertips across his arm, but what is endearing is how careful Derek is with his touches.

The pack leers at them since it is now summer and they're all under one roof again, but Stiles doesn't mind it. After all the crap they've gone through, Stiles thinks it very well should be him who makes the first move though. He is fairly confident that Derek will respond in kind, but he would still rather make sure that the pack isn't within hearing distance before he sets his plan in motion.

So once the pack has trickled out of the house for the day, Stiles cracks his knuckles and goes to the garage where Derek is tinkering away on an engine block for the car he intends to give to Isaac on his next birthday. Stiles watches him work for a moment, biting his lip as he leans against the doorjamb.

Derek is calm, eyes focused on where his hands intend to go. Motor oil clings to his palms and wrists, an ever-present smell their alpha now carries. Stiles himself knows that he smells like wood more often than not, especially since his carpentry business took off the ground and he began receiving an influx of commissions.

His alpha tilts his head to the side and sniffs the air once before his gaze snaps up and lands on Stiles. Stiles smiles at him, feeling giddy when Derek smiles right back.

"Hey, I have a favor to ask," Stiles says, straightening up from his slouch as Derek wipes his hands clean with a nearby rag.

Derek hums, one brow raised in silent question. Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, smiling when Derek's expression twists with confusion. He is certain that his alpha has taken notice of his elevated heartbeat and the nerves clouding his scent, but he isn't going to let it stop him.

_Here goes._

"Can you teach me how you like being kissed?"

Stiles doesn't let himself panic in the silence that follows. He is much too focused on the shocked look on Derek's face and how he freezes in place as he processes what Stiles just said.

"What?" Derek asks.

"Teach me how you like being kissed."

Derek's eyes are wide as he drops the rag in his hands and takes a step towards Stiles. "Why would you want me to do that?"

Stiles grins. "Because I like you. Because I think you like me too. And because I'd like to get it right the first time since it will be the start of our awesome, grossly domestic relationship to come."

His alpha smiles, relaxed now as he crosses his arms over chest and cocks his eyebrows up. Stiles walks forward, closing the space between them before he can think better of it and lose the unexpected confidence overtaking him right now.

"You don't have to, but if you _want_ to, I'd really appreciate it if you did," Stiles adds, feeling like he should make it more than clear that Derek can say no and Stiles _will_ respect that.

Too many people have taken advantage of his alpha and Stiles will not be another one of them. Regardless of whatever Derek may be to him, he won't allow someone else to take advantage of his alpha either.

No, if someone wants to hurt Derek, they'll have to get through Stiles and the pack first. They have all made that abundantly clear time and time again, so he can only hope that Derek understands that as well as they do.

Derek laughs a full belly laugh that is bright and pleasant. "Come here."

Stiles steps closer, eagerly waiting for Derek's next command. Derek takes his hands and holds them up to his face, pressing Stiles' palms to his cheek until Stiles get the memo. He cups the older man's face tenderly, heart jumping up to his throat when Derek closes his eyes and sighs contentedly.

"Close your eyes," Derek instructs, laughing again when Stiles does so immediately. "Now kiss me."

It takes a moment for Stiles to land his mark, but once he has, he feels his fingertips tingle as their lips meet. His cheek prickles under Derek's beard, no doubt leaving the skin tinted a delicate pink that will make Stiles look entirely debauched later. The kiss itself is short and is very chaste, but it's sweet too. He pulls back and keeps his eyes closed, listening to their breathing and smiling when Derek nuzzles his hands.

"Again, but this time, start from the corner of my mouth and keep moving until you reach the other side," Derek says, snorting when Stiles presses a swift kiss to the corner of his mouth while he's still talking.

Stiles ignores that and moves down the seam of his lips, only stopping at the other side of his grin. He is surprised when Derek grabs hold of one of his hands and guides it past his ear, towards his hair. "You can pull on my hair, but not too hard. And when you kiss me next, trace my top lip with your tongue."

"I think you can feel my boner at this point, but I want to make it very clear that I am only expecting some kissing today. Maybe some light groping, but definitely only came out here for a makeout session," Stiles blurts out, flushing as he draws attention to how easily Derek has riled him up with the tamest of kisses known to man.

He squeaks when Derek grips his hips and presses them close together, shivering as Derek's erection prods his waist. "Light groping would be acceptable."

Stiles doesn't have to open his eyes to see the smile on Derek's face, but it's nice to know that he can tell just from the sound of his voice when his alpha is happy or not at least. He pulls Derek closer and buries his fingers in Derek's dark hair, gripping the strands near his nape. Derek groans against his mouth, the sound sending a spark of pleasure right to Stiles' groin.

He presses their lips together gently though, tongue poking out to swipe across Derek's top lip. Stiles almost has a heart attack when Derek moans loudly, his hips kicking up pitifully and doing wonders for Stiles' ego. Stiles moves in closer then, rubbing his thumb against Derek's cheekbone as he traces Derek's bottom lip this time. Derek hums into the motion, mouth parting under Stiles' inquisitive touches.

Derek's grip tightens on his hips when their tongues meet, breaths intermingling between them. Stiles is sure that the motor oil his alpha wasn't able to wipe off his hands beforehand is now all over his shirt, but as they start to lose themselves in the kiss, Stiles finds that he doesn't mind all that much.

As long as he continues to have this, he'll be fine.

**+1**

“It’s very simple.”

“Simple for you maybe,” Derek mutters darkly under his breath.

Stiles laughs, patting the older werewolf on his shoulder. “Don’t be like that, babe. I promised that this recipe was very easy to follow and very difficult to mess up and I was right. We're almost done!”

"Thank god," Derek growls.

"Now you're just being grumpy on purpose," Stiles sing-songs, darting forward to press a kiss to Derek's cheek. "Lighten up. You're doing fine, baby."

Derek scowls at him. "I am not a baby."

"You're my baby," Stiles shoots back, laughing when Derek slaps his reaching hand away. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that. You know you are."

Derek ignores him. "I'm going to finish mixing the batter and you are going to stand all the way over there where you can't touch me."

"So cruel," Stiles feigns hurt, holding his hands to his chest. "I'm the man who loves you most in the world and this is how you treat me. For shame."

"I will break this spoon on your head, Stiles."

Stiles only smiles. "Just keep mixing, baby. I'll grab the chocolate chips and I'll even butter the pan before we pour this deliciousness in."

"Are you _sure_ you don't have a food kink?" Derek asks while the corners of his mouth twitch up and Stiles' heart decides to take a joy ride.

"Please not where we can hear you!" Erica yells from the living room.

"Sorry!" Stiles shouts back, his entire face flushed red when he meets Derek's gaze. "You are a very cruel man, Derek."

Derek gives in to the urge to smile. "Only because you make it so fun."

Stiles harrumphs, grabbing the bag of chocolate chips he left on the island earlier and stepping up beside Derek until their shoulders are pressed together. "And to think I agreed to marry you."

"You're very lucky to be married to me," Derek feels the need to point out, pausing in his stirring when Stiles pours a large amount of chocolate chips into the bowl in front of him. "Also, I'm pretty sure the recipe does not call for this many chips."

"Sh." Stiles nudges him in the side. "Let me live my best chocolate-filled life."

Derek laughs, going back to his stirring as Stiles grabs the tub of butter and smears some around the edges and bottom of a baking pan. Stiles checks the thickness of the batter one more time before he declares it perfect and grabs hold of Derek's wrists so they can pour it into the pan together. The oven is already pre-heated, so it's simple to put the baking pan in and set the timer.

Stiles grins at him, unbearably smug as they wash up. Derek grumbles under his breath, pausing when the smell of Stiles' arousal rises in the air. He raises a brow up at his husband, eyes narrowed as he catches a glint of undisguisable mischief in Stiles' warm, brown eyes.

“Derek,” Stiles finally breaks the silence with.

“What?”

“I’m gonna kiss you.”

Derek chuckles, despite himself, and turns the sink off as Stiles moves closer towards him. “Okay.”

Stiles grins.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! check out my [tumblr](https://sourwolfclub.tumblr.com) if you want more sterek (:


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